The Angel
by arvin calfaye
Summary: One-shot. Some referances to the 2005 movie. A talk between a father and son of a being present in the room...their angel.


_Disclaimer:_

_Phantom of the Opera does not belong to me. Simple as I have said it, short and straightforward._

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**The Angel**

The boy clad in silky nightwear stood at the threshold of the living room. His hazel eyes fluttered sleepily as he walked towards the solitary person sitting on the lavish arm-chair, deep in concentration in the book he was reading. The warm glow from the fireplace illuminated the room with a slight eerie tinge and the short span of silence did not make it better. The lad stopped in front of the man and quickly but gently placed his small head on his lap. The man, failing to notice the boy's presence suddenly stiffened and then relaxed.

"Papa, I cannot sleep," the boy started, slightly louder than a whisper.

Erik smiled slightly. He placed his novel on the small table next to him and tenderly ran his fingers on his son's jet-black locks. Slowly and softly, he lifted the boy's head up as if it were fragile porcelain. Erik looked into his son's drowsy eyes and chuckled.

"What ever is the matter, Louis? I thought that trip had already drained you a great deal."

Louis stood up, expressing with child-like trepidation that there was something in his room. Erik smiled understandingly, like any father towards a small child of seven. He scooped up the half-awake boy and carefully walked up the marble staircase. Little Louis squirmed in delight that he was safe in his father's arms.

They reached Louis' bedroom and Erik placed the boy on his warm bed. Louis, whom upon knowing that his little ride was over, unlocked his arms from his father's neck and pulled the blankets over himself. Erik who was aware that Louis would now want to be left alone dragged a chair to the bedside.

"Care to tell me more about it?" Erik started, leaning towards the bed.

"I felt something around just now, but even now I still feel it in here, even with you, Papa," Louis answered, trying as hard to explain to his father. "The strangest thing is that it does not fill me with fear but makes me feel warm and protected. Every time I close my eyes, I see an outline of a person. Papa, did a ghost follow us home when we visited Maman?"

Erik pondered silently, before uttering out a question back to him. "What do you think?"

Louis wordlessly shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"Louis, do you want to know what I think?" Erik continued, and Louis nodded his head. "I think that Maman has come to you. She's the only one whom I can think that will be able to that."

The boy's face lighted up instantaneously and eagerly asked if it really was her. Erik beamed, assuring the innocent boy that it was. Louis bounced happily in his bed, the old springs in the mattress squeaked loudly.

"But, that makes Maman a ghost, does it not? You told me that there are no such things as ghosts," queried Louis, his hazel eyes widening with innocence.

"No she's not a ghost, dear. Maman is an angel," Erik replied in a bittersweet tone.

Louis pressed on by asking him what is an angel and he said, "Angels are ethereal beings that come from heaven to help us, they are pure in heart and bring love and warmth when they are around. Your mother, even when she was alive was like an angel. It is not surprising that she would want to come back as an angel to take care of her only son."

"Then I am a child of an angel?"

His father's lips arched into a small smile and he chuckled, "Of course! Who else is as brilliant and as perfect as an Angel's child, my boy? You're the best gift she's ever given me…the perfect son."

With that, Erik went forward to tickle Louis abdomen that sent them both into rapturous fits of laughter. When all became calm, Louis said, "Maman is truly wonderful, Dad. Since she protects me, she will certainly protect you too. I shall be able to sleep peacefully every night, knowing that you are here and Maman is there guarding both of us."

"Oh, no doubt of it. And now you go to sleep, Louis," Erik said with a heartening look and got out of the chair to embrace his son and give a small peck on the cheek before shuffling towards the door. Before he could touch the brass, decorated door-knob, Louis called out to him.

"Papa…Maman wants you know that she loves you a lot." Louis smiled and lay down on his bed, closing his eyes. No sooner, he drifted into a blissful sleep dreaming of his ethereal angels.

Erik stood there, not knowing how much time had gone by. When he got out of his slight trance-like state, thinking over of what his boy just said, he breathed a strained thank you and exited, closing the door behind him.

He stumbled into the hallway, choking out half muffled sobs. His eyes glistened, tears threatening to spill forth. He could not contain much longer and turned towards his room. His jet-black hair, slightly messy, hid past of his unmasked face.

Erik held his face with one hand, the other one leaning one the walls to support himself. Tears streamed down his face as he inched to his room. He staggered into his intricately decorated bedroom and instantly plunged himself on the blood-red cushions and blankets.

His mind raced back to the time he and his wife pledged their love, his oath never to hide his face from her and her last breath. He cherished those fond memories when he shared their house by the lakeside, far from any peering eyes and the hectic Parisian streets, the trials they endured and the day when Louis came…and she left…forever.

Erik lay his head down on his pillow, the other one not used, not warmed. The room as silent as death saved from a few soft cries. He made a mental note to visit his late wife again the next day, with a bouquet of dark red roses tied with white ribbons.

"Oh Christine…." He called out her name in the darkness, looking back at all those joyous times with her. Tears rolled uncontrollably down his cheeks.

But those tears were not of sadness, they were of happiness.

**The End**

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_Well since you are reading this, i'm sure you've read the story already._

_Probably you are asking yourself, "Why were they tears of happiness."_

_It is up to your imagination to find out. _

_Anyways, should you wish me to write another storysomewhat based on this story, do write in the reviews. Also review WHAT YOU REALLY ARE THINKING, good or bad comments...both help me in my writings. So, praytell I'll have time to write some more..._

_Yours humbly,_

_Christiane Xavier. _

_P.S.the description of Erik isbased on the_recent Phantom of the Opera movie.


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